When the command came to move out, Ash slapped the reins on his team and the wagon lurched forward. For the next few minutes, the sounds of horses, creaking wheels, and jangling tack echoing off the stone walls around them were too loud for conversation. Once they exited the gate, the noise dropped, but neither spoke as the line of travelers turned onto the road east and spread out a little.
Starling fidgeted with the slate on her lap again, waiting for him to tell her he was ready to begin. His eyes were focused straight ahead when he finally spoke. “May I ask why you want to teach me, my lady? I can’t repay your kindness.”
She looked surprised by the question. “I enjoy teaching. I taught some of my cousins to read a few years ago.” Her fingers drummed the slate as she paused. “I’m sure there’s some things you could teach me.”
“Like what? I can’t even read.”
“Well,” she said, “as you pointed out last night, I don’t know much about the army.”
An alarm went off in the back of his mind. Why would she want to know about the army?
“I’ve met only Lieutenant Casseck so far,” she continued. “Who are the other officers?”
There was no doubt in his mind anything he said would end up in that ledger. Their names weren’t something he could really hide, however, so he pointed out Gramwell and said he was a good rider, neglecting to mention he was an ambassador’s son.
“And your captain?” She squinted at the dark figure riding near the front of the column. “What’s he like?”
He shrugged. “Keeps to himself mostly.”
“I imagine command is lonely.”
He turned to look at her in surprise. “What makes you say that, my lady?”
“Well, maybe not on this assignment, but I imagine he has to be ready to order any of his men into certain death.” The right side of her mouth twisted up in a crooked smile. “Not exactly a position for making friends.”
She was either very perceptive, or she knew much more about military matters than she let on. He wasn’t sure which option was more disconcerting. “I’m ready to begin whenever you are, my lady.”
“Wonderful,” she said. “Do you know the alphabet song, the one children learn?”
“A little, my lady, but it’s mostly nonsense to me.”
“Not after today,” she said firmly, drawing the first set of letters on the slate.
And so the lesson began. He sped things along by pretending to discover he knew more letters than he realized, such as the ones in his name or that designated certain units in the army. Starling pounced on the opportunity to ask about them, and more than once he feigned a distraction with the wagon to end her line of questioning.
“So we’ll travel an average of just over twenty miles a day,” she was saying. “How does that compare with how fast the army can travel?”
“That all depends.” He cast his eyes around for something. “If there are roads or—look, my lady. I think I’d like to try some of what I’ve learned.” He pointed to the sign posted at a crossroad they approached.
Sagerra frowned a little before looking where he indicated. “Go ahead.”
He stumbled through sounding out the letters. With her patient correction, he managed to come up with “Maple Glen” and “Flaxfield.” Acting pleased with himself, he pointed to an angled sign, which became visible as they passed. “That one starts with a—”
“Wintermead,” Sagerra said, cutting him off. “It says Wintermead.” She stared straight ahead without seeing.
He watched her from the corner of his eye. “You do not like Wintermead,” he said cautiously.
Her lips tightened into a thin line, and she reached up with her left hand and grabbed her upper right arm, fingers digging into the muscle. He’d seen similar actions in soldiers. When getting sutures or a bone set, they’d pinch a tender area to draw their focus away from the surgeon’s work.
“I’d forgotten we would pass through this area.” Sagerra swallowed twice before forcing the words out. “My father died there.”
She wrinkled her forehead and turned ghostly gray eyes to his face. The raw emotion she directed at him was so intense he couldn’t look away. “I thought I’d finally begun to get over it, but at times it feels like it was yesterday, and it’s like I’ve been gored by a wild animal.”
Her right hand gripped the wooden bench between them, and he had the shocking urge to cover it with his own hand and offer her some comfort, but that would have been very inappropriate.
“We don’t have to talk about him,” he said, “but it might help.”
“How so?”
He shrugged. “Maybe it would relieve some of the pressure that’s built up, like draining a festering wound.”
Sagerra pursed her lips, looking slightly amused. “An apt, if somewhat disgusting, analogy.”
He ducked his head. “Sorry. I’m a soldier. It’s what I know.”
Her silence felt louder than the rhythmic clatter of the horses straining to pull the wagon. He could see something building up inside her.
“His name was Peter,” she said abruptly. Her eyes glazed over, and he held his breath, waiting through a full turn of the wheel at his feet. “He had dark hair and blue eyes and would read to me by firelight while I mended his shirts. When I read now, sometimes the words in my head are in his voice.” She turned away and gazed down the road, her voice dropping so low he could barely hear her. “I worry someday I’ll forget how it sounded.”
Now the urge to take her hand was so strong he lifted his cap and scratched his head to prevent it. “You and your mother must have been devastated.”
Sagerra shrugged. “She died long before that. I don’t even remember her.”
He waited, but she made no mention of a stepmother. Had her father raised her alone? He’d never heard of such a thing. Motherless girls were always passed on to female relatives, at least until fathers remarried, but it was obvious she was close to him. “How old were you?”
“Twelve.”
Again she said no more. “Do you have any brothers or sisters?” he asked casually.
“No.”
Another curt answer. Something wasn’t right. Was he prying too much? He’d dropped quite a few “my ladys,” so maybe she was displeased over that. He was debating how to proceed when Casseck rode up alongside the wagon.
“Carter,” the lieutenant said sharply, making him jump. “We’ll stop for a rest and meal just ahead.” Casseck gestured to a bend where the road passed near a wide stream and a grove of trees. It appeared to be a common resting place for travelers. Much of the grass was worn away, and the remnants of fires could be seen. “When you’re finished tending the horses, Captain Quinn wants a word with you.” He nodded to Sagerra. “My lady.” She half smiled and nodded back.
Mouse guided the cart into position, thinking more about her silence than where the wagon was going. It didn’t feel like anger he’d run up against. It felt like a wall. He knew because he had one, too.